Chapter 22 #2
We reach the car in under four minutes. I don’t remember the walk. Just Ian’s iron grip on my arm, the blur of colorful stalls, the normal sounds of the market still drifting behind us like nothing terrible had happened.
Reth is already in the driver’s seat, engine running. Ian shoves me into the back and slams the door as Reth peels out, tires kicking up gravel.
The silence lasts maybe thirty seconds.
Ian twists in the passenger seat, voice tight. “Reth. Talk to me.”
“He works for her.” Reth’s voice is flat, deadly. His hands are locked on the wheel like he’s imagining snapping someone’s neck. “The man I killed. He’s one of Valeria’s.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I recognized him.” Reth’s jaw flexes. “He was in Prague three years ago. One of her cleaners.”
“Jesus Christ.” Ian drags a hand down his face. “It’s not even been twenty-four hours and she already found us?”
I lean forward between the seats, heart pounding. “What’s going on? Who was that man? Reth—”
They both ignore me completely.
“We need to get her out of here.”
Ian’s swiping across his phone. “Marina’s compromised. Road is the only—”
“South access needs monitoring until we get confirmation on the vehicle,” Reth says, voice clipped. “After that, we have a twenty-minute window to reach the airport. Get the plane ready.”
“On it.” Ian already has his phone to his ear, barking orders. “Andrei — north road, full kit, now. We’re not going back to the villa. It’s compromised. Straight to the plane.”
I don’t bother demanding answers. They’re both locked in operational mode, too focused on whatever this is to even look at me.
I lean my head back and try to breathe. My whole body shakes like I’ve had too much caffeine, but the only thing running through me is adrenaline and the sticky afterimage of a man dying five feet from me.
The drive to the small private airport on the other side of the island is a blur of sharp turns, Reth barking out orders, Ian repeating it to whoever he’s speaking to over the phone.
When we screech onto the tarmac, the plane is already waiting, stairs down, engines humming.
We bolt from the car, and Reth has my arm, half-dragging me toward the stairs. “Please talk to me. What’s going on?”
“She found you.” He doesn’t look at me when he says that, doesn’t slow down.
“How did she—”
“I don’t know.”
My legs feel numb as we reach the metal stairs. Ian rushes ahead of us, and I follow with Reth right behind me. I’m almost at the top when Reth’s hand closes around my wrist and yanks me back.
He spins me around so hard I stumble into his chest, and he kisses me.
So fucking hard, it steals my breath. His hands cup my face, mouth crushing mine with an urgency that’s almost violent, like he’s trying to pour his entire soul into me.
It’s desperate. Devastating. Teeth and tongue, and the hot iron of fear welded to longing.
Like he’s terrified this might be the last time he ever touches me.
I taste blood — his or mine, I don’t know — and still I kiss him back just as fiercely, fingers fisting in his shirt, gasping into his mouth like I need him more than air.
He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, breathing ragged for one, two, three heartbeats. Then…
“I love you, Sophia.”
My heart detonates. Lodges in my ribs like a bullet.
It’s the first time…the first time he…
The door slams shut between us with a heavy metallic thud. The sound is obscene. Final. It cracks through me like a bone breaking.
“No.” I whirl on Ian. “What the fuck are you doing? Open the door!”
“Sophia—”
“Stop!” I lunge for the small oval window, slamming my palms against the cold glass so hard it hurts. “Reth!”
He’s standing on the tarmac, motionless, and looks up at me and our eyes lock. For a second I think, irrationally, beautifully, that I can punch through the window and crawl back into his arms.
“Sophia, we have to get seatbelts on.”
“Fuck you!” I snap at Ian.
Reth takes one involuntary step forward, like every cell in his body is screaming at him to tear the plane apart with his bare hands and drag me back out.
But then he stops.
For one agonizing second, he stands there — fists clenched, shoulders rigid, the man who just killed for me, who just said he loved me like the words were carved out of his soul — and I see the exact moment he breaks his own heart to keep me alive.
He turns away.
Doesn’t look back. Not even a glance. Just walks.
The engines roar louder. The plane starts accelerating down the runway.
“No— Reth!” I scream, slamming my palms against the glass so hard my hands sting. “Reth, look at me! Please!”
He keeps walking. Shoulders straight. Head down. Like if he looks back even once, he’ll come running and never let me go.
Ian pulls me down into the seat, buckling me in with firm, practiced hands while I fight him like a wild animal.
“Ian— stop! We can’t leave him! We can’t—”
The plane lifts off.
I twist in my seat, pressing my forehead to the cold window, tears pouring down my face in hot, ugly streams. I watch him grow smaller and smaller on the tarmac below — just a dark silhouette against the golden morning light, getting farther and farther away until he’s nothing but a fading shadow.
The man who finally said he loved me.
My chest feels hollowed out. Like someone reached in and took the most vital part of me, leaving nothing but bleeding edges and his last words still ringing in my ears.
“Crazy, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t,” I snap at Ian. “Don’t fucking talk to me.”
For the duration of the flight, he doesn’t.
All I do is stare out the window, those three words — the ones he finally gave me, raw and bleeding and true — echoing in the silence.
I love you.
He said it.
And I didn’t get a chance to say it back.